


The Love Equation

by Castillon02



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst, Aromantic, Canonical Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 12:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19946257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castillon02/pseuds/Castillon02
Summary: It’s the first time anyone calls her a bitch.





	The Love Equation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 007 Fest 2019, for the James/Vesper and 'free space' (trauma) angst prompt.

In primary school, a girl named Lucy plays a game of gossip that ends with her singing, “You _like_ him, you _like_ him!” to Vesper in the schoolyard. The him in question is Asim Umrani, who stands to the side with a horrible hope in his eyes. **  
**

Vesper crushes it. “I don’t like anyone,” she says flatly. “Especially not liars,” her eyes linger on Lucy, “and especially not cowards.” She glares at Asim. 

It’s the first time anyone calls her a bitch. 

It’s not the last. She hears it all through secondary school, “Cold bitch.” And all through secondary school, people ask and ask: who do you like? Who’s your crush? Who would you fuck? 

Vesper likes numbers. She likes crushing her exams into the dust. The only fuck she likes is the one in “Fuck you.” 

In uni, the insults only get more condescending. “I can see you’ve suffered from a trauma, but I believe that together we can fix whatever is wrong with you,” one man says earnestly. She helps him suffer a trauma to the groin. 

By the time Yusef comes along—intelligent, sweet, patient—Vesper is determined. She is tired of suffering a society of idiots, a continuous trauma of its own from people like the man who asked if it was her dead parents that made her afraid of intimacy. No more. She is going to be In Love. Everyone is going to shut up because she’ll have that most magical of items, a boyfriend. Her brain might be misbehaving, but brains can be trained. 

She cuts a lock of his hair—she must be in love. 

She wears his necklace by her heart—she must be in love. 

She sells state secrets to protect him—she is in love. She is. This heart-heaving stress must be what love feels like. 

Bond, when she meets him, has hair too short for locks. He prickles and pokes instead of whispering sweet nothings, and he leaps for his target with little care for consequences.

He is also, wonder of wonders, a man who can almost keep up with her. A man who can kill and comfort, die and resurrect, all in the same evening. A man who would literally rather have his cock cut off than let Le Chiffre win, which is the kind of spite she can respect. 

Admiration blossoms in her, and affection. Still no thump-thump-thump of her heart beating faster, still none of that mythical flame, although the sex is quite nice. But they laugh over puns, they tease, they plan their travels together, they eat pleasant meals with each other. They hold hands sometimes. He doesn’t ask questions, not like Yusef, who needed constant reassurance and always wanted to know the details of things. He is, for a spy, incredibly willing to let things lie. Willing to let her be who she really is. 

Bond doesn’t seduce her, not like Yusef did. He retires for her. He is her truest friend. 

She doesn’t _like_ -like him, but she thinks she loves him. 

This is love, she thinks. Love is buying a life instead of letting it die. Love is shutting a door and letting the water in. Love is leaving her mobile on her desk so Bond can spite someone while he mourns. 

She likes numbers: a life for a life, a love for a love. She doesn’t need romance to do that equation. 

**Author's Note:**

> I had this sensitivity read by an aro friend, but I am not personally aromantic, so I particularly welcome constructive feedback in that regard. Thank you for reading <3


End file.
